


Open Every Door

by supernutellastuff



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bucky Barnes Remembers, F/M, Pre-Infinity War, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-03 23:24:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13351683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supernutellastuff/pseuds/supernutellastuff
Summary: The world is ending. The world is fucking ending, and he might die here in the grasslands of this unfamiliar country. This is the worst time to have this conversation. There is no better time to have this conversation.Pre-IW where Bucky remembers everything but Natasha does not. Inspired by Black Widow #9.





	Open Every Door

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aurora_ff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurora_ff/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [Открывая двери](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14128071) by [remontada](https://archiveofourown.org/users/remontada/pseuds/remontada)



> This is a gift for the super talented aurora_ff who asked for "pre-battle conversation where Bucky remembers everything". And because I'm a sucker for angst, Natasha has no memory of him in this fic :P  
> P. S. I'm a big fan of all your stories, so I really hope you like this!
> 
> Title is from a poem by Emily Dickenson:  
> Not knowing when the dawn will come,  
> I will open every door.

 

Hours before the battle, Bucky finds himself methodically dissembling and oiling the gun, and contemplating the effectiveness of a rifle and a metal arm against a horde of extra-terrestrial beasts. He woke up from cryo to a world in which purple-faced aliens fight over a few pieces of coloured stone and Steve grows a beard. Nothing makes sense anymore.  

As his hands work quickly to service the weapon, Bucky senses a heavy gaze on him; Natasha Romanoff. Figures. It’s her gun he’d “borrowed”.

She doesn’t look away. Ever since he’d come out of the ice, free from the triggers, his body has protested staying still for too long. Hence the almost compulsive gun cleaning. She, on the other hand, is as immobile as a marble statue. The Black Widow unnerves him, in more ways than one.

Wakandan soldiers and technicians flit in and out of the room, making last-minute preparations. As soon as their surroundings are clear, she approaches him, footsteps echoing like gunshots.

“Yesterday,” she says instead of a greeting. “At the gym.”

“What about it?”

“You called me Natalia.” Her face, usually so perfectly neutral, creases slightly. “Why.”

 _Shit._ Bucky shouldn’t have agreed to spar, but had found himself unwilling to say no to Natasha. They’d started off awkwardly, testing each other’s form. Then suddenly something had clicked into place, and they’d fallen into rhythms her body clearly remembered, even if her mind did not. If she was surprised by the ease with which they fought together, she didn’t betray it. At least, until he went and called her Natalia.

“Didn’t mean anything,” he grunts.

“Of course it meant something, Barnes. Otherwise you wouldn’t have cut our session short.”

 _Barnes_. It sounds completely wrong when it comes out of her mouth. “I was tired, okay?” he snaps. “The world is fucking ending, I need my rest.”

He turns to leave, and of course, she’s already in his way. “Move.”

“Not unless you tell me why.” Her voice is pitched low, warm as honey. Bucky knows not to be fooled by it.

“This is not the time, Romanoff.”

“The world is fucking ending, Barnes. Remember?”

“Stop calling me Barnes!” he yells. His metal hand clenches. He wants to punch something.

Natasha’s mouth twists. “What do I call you then?” she asks, mocking.

“ _James_ ”. It’s out of him before he can stop himself. _Oh well_. Guess they’re doing this now. “You used to call me James.”

He can pinpoint the moment the ice cracks. Then, Natasha musters up a quick humourless smile. Her teeth flash like knives. “Wrong. I know you as the Soldier. The first time we crossed paths in Odessa, you shot me.”

There is no accusation in her voice, but her fingers lightly circle a spot on her stomach. The Winter Soldier had not recognised his former pupil then, but somehow he knew enough to take a shot that had missed all her major organs.

“We met long before in the Red Room. I trained you.”

Natasha scoffs. “Impossible. I would’ve remembered you.”

“Not if they wiped you too,” he replies wearily.

He sees the punch coming and raises his arm to block it. What he doesn’t see is the kick. Bucky stumbles, and she uses the momentum to push him. His back hits the wall. Natasha invades his space with a menacing purpose, their bodies don’t touch but she’s close, very close.

Bucky could leave. Easily. He could break her arms and throw her across the room. She would recover, and she would never come near him again. Sure, he’d be kicked out of the Avengers, but that would be a small price to pay.

Bucky takes one look at her trembling face, and stays.

“I. Was. Not. Wiped.” Her jaws are clenched painfully tight. “Don’t you dare- don’t you dare mess this up. The Red Room was bloody, it was brutal, and I remember every fucking minute of it!”

There’s a deep ache in his bones telling him to let it go. From what Steve’s told him, she’s barely made peace with her past. But a selfish part of him –the part that wants her to stop looking at him like a stranger- is telling him to rip off the protective barriers. The world is ending. The world is fucking ending, and he might die here in the grasslands of this unfamiliar country. This is the worst time to have this conversation. There is no better time to have this conversation.

He grips her forearm, not too tight, and forces her to look at him. Her pupils are wide with rage. He swallows.

“You were born Natalia Romanova. Place, Stalingrad. Parents, unknown. Year… 1942.”

Natasha staggers. Reflexively, he puts his other hand on her shoulder, steadying her. “How-”

“The graduation ceremony. You were the only one the serum worked for. No wonder; you were the best out of all them.” Admiration laces his voice. “I know, because I was there.”

She composes herself and shoots him a contemptuous glance. “You have no right to fuck with my head. Today of all days-”

“They wiped you, Natalia,” he says softly. “Gave you new memories. I was your trainer but they removed all trace of me.” _Of us._ No, he’s not going there.

“No, you did not train me!”

The frustration inside him builds. Spills over. This time it’s he who lashes out, his strikes enough to hurt but not to kill. She parries and blocks his every kick and blow. Neither of them use the weapons lying around, but Natasha makes strategic use of the chairs and benches in her attempt to gain an upper hand. He thrusts her against a locker, and a metallic _clang_ echoes in the room. She sprays a bottle of water in his eyes and escapes his hold. Bucky presses on, never letting up, and Natasha never falters.

“WHO DO YOU THINK TAUGHT YOU THIS?” he roars as a well-placed knee to his chest makes him stumble. “AND THAT!” Taking advantage of his backward momentum, she sweeps his legs with in a graceful motion. And in a heartbeat Bucky is flat on his back. Natasha’s weight settles on his middle, legs on either side of him. She’s breathing heavily, strands of platinum blonde hair stuck to her forehead. She hasn’t bothered to restrain his arms.

“You’re more than just a highly-skilled assassin, Natalia.” She stays silent, looking anywhere but him. “You age slowly, you heal faster.” The fingers fisted in his jacket tighten.

“I could have easily killed you and the scientist in Odessa,” he whispers, once her green eyes lock into his face. “But I didn’t. Why? The Soldier never misses.”

“Because I was not your mission,” she points out, but doesn’t sound as convinced.

“In DC, in Berlin, you instinctively knew what would work against me,” he continues. “Because we used to train together. We were partners.”

Slowly, she scans his expression for any hint of deception. Bucky looks back calmly. Her weight on him is warm and familiar. With some adjustment, they could be in a more _pleasurable_ position. But he’s not ready to bring up that side of their relationship. So he stays still under her scrutiny, hands placed on the floor, ignoring the way his skin tingles at her touch.

“Is that all we were?” she finally asks. “Training partners?” His face is still wet from when she’d soaked him. He licks the drops off his lips. Her eyes carefully track the movement.

Bucky clears his throat. “We went on missions together.”

At that, Natasha straightens up. She offers her hand to him. Bucky grasps it firmly with his flesh-and-blood one and heaves himself up.

“Are we good?” he asks warily.

Natasha sighs. “I’m not fully accepting your version of events, but…what you said, felt right.” She gestures vaguely in the air. “I need time to…introspect. Time which I don’t have.”

“I’m sorry.” He feels guilty for upending her world when she barely has time to process it.

“Don’t be.” She bares her teeth. “It’s good to know that I’m just a little less killable.”

They finish the final checks of their weapons and gear in silence. Bucky basks in its familiarity.

“Just like old times.”

“If you say so.”

It’s a sobering reminder that things may not be the same as they once were. Natasha may get her memories back, she may not. They might survive this war, they may not. But the soft grin on Natasha’s face tells him that this may have just been worth it.

It’s hard not to smile back.

**Author's Note:**

> "Just like old times" and "If you say so" are taken from Black Widow #9. The look on Bucky's face in that panel absolutely kills me. So I've given it a more hopeful spin in this one.
> 
> Also, if you read any sexual undertones in their sparring, that was partly intentional :P


End file.
